


Control

by nowintechnicolor



Category: WandaVision (TV)
Genre: F/F, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:28:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29889411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nowintechnicolor/pseuds/nowintechnicolor
Summary: “Are you all right?” Agnes asked, placing a comforting hand on Wanda’s knee. “You don’t seem to have much pep in your step, these days.”“I’m fine. Just need more sleep, I guess.”“Twelve hours a night isn’t doin’ it for ya?” Agnes said, glancing toward the sitcom camera.“I might be a little depressed,” Wanda conceded, removing Agnes’ hand so that she could kick her feet up on the table. “But who isn’t, you know? Life is depressing.”“Not in Westview.”“No, not in Westview,” Wanda said with a laugh.“Not when you’ve got good friends,” Agnes said, cautiously returning her hand to Wanda’s knee. It crept a little higher this time, resting on her thigh.
Relationships: Agatha Harkness & Wanda Maximoff, Wanda Maximoff/Agatha Harkness
Comments: 10
Kudos: 129





	Control

“He’s been gone for quite a while, hasn’t he, dear?” Agnes said cheerily, folding one of Vision’s shirts and adding it to her towering stack of laundry. Wanda didn’t remember her coming in, which was typical. 

“I guess he has,” Wanda said, reaching for her now-soggy bowl of cereal. She liked the late-2000s mockumentary feel that Westview had taken on lately. The fashion wasn’t anything special, but it was worlds more comfortable than the corseted  _ Bewitched  _ dresses. 

“My Ralph does the same thing. He’ll take a couple hours to blow off some steam - even a day or two - and then he’ll be back before you know it. Too soon, if you ask me.” 

Agnes’ quips about her home life didn’t have the same charm without the laugh track. Wanda had to wonder what her life was like, under the magic.  _ Maybe she’s better off this way,  _ she thought.  _ Maybe they all are.  _

“I think you’re right,” Agnes said. Wanda blinked. 

“Right about - ?” 

“The Halloween costumes. You were telling me about the designs. You’re absolutely right - Vision would look just darling with a cape.” 

“Huh,” Wanda said, struggling to recall when she had mentioned their Halloween plans. 

“Are you all right?” Agnes asked, placing a comforting hand on Wanda’s knee. “You don’t seem to have much pep in your step, these days.” 

“I’m fine. Just need more sleep, I guess.” 

“Twelve hours a night isn’t doin’ it for ya?” Agnes said, glancing toward the sitcom camera. 

“I might be a little depressed,” Wanda conceded, removing Agnes’ hand so that she could kick her feet up on the table. “But who isn’t, you know? Life is depressing.” 

“Not in Westview.” 

“No, not in Westview,” Wanda said with a laugh. 

“Not when you’ve got good friends,” Agnes said, cautiously returning her hand to Wanda’s knee. It crept a little higher this time, resting on her thigh. 

Wanda froze. In all of the eras that the town had lived through, none of the citizens had ever displayed behavior that contradicted the shows they were based on. The hex specifically forbade it. She thought back to  _ Modern Family,  _ to  _ The Office,  _ to  _ Parks and Recreation  _ \- was there some seduction scene her subconscious was drawing on? 

“I should probably get going with my errands,” Wanda said, jumping up from the couch. “You’re welcome to stay, if you want. Help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. ...Which is probably just milk and ketchup, at the moment.” 

“Did I do something wrong?” Agnes asked.

Wanda’s stomach coiled in guilt. Her attraction to Agnes had been a problem since the black-and-white days. It was almost funny: she had created a fake world to live in with her dead husband, only to develop a crush on the next-door neighbor. It was a harmless crush, she told herself; even people who have found their soulmate are allowed to recognize when someone else is cute. But then Agnes started showing up in a tight 80s leotard, talking about her libido, and Wanda started to worry that her crush was having real-life consequences. 

“No, you didn’t do anything wrong,” Wanda said, busying herself with grabbing her shopping bags. She wasn’t even sure if the grocery store had real food in it, but that was beside the point. “I’m just - I’m not - I’m married.” 

“So am I.” Suddenly, Agnes was right next to her, as if she had super speed of her own. “I don’t see how that has anything to do with one afternoon of fun while the kids are away.” 

Wanda crossed the kitchen, head swimming with Agnes’ perfume. “Stop.” 

“If this is about Ralph, he’s nothing to worry about. A stiff breeze could knock that man over. Though there’s nothing stiff about him, let me tell you.” 

“Agnes, you don’t want this,” Wanda said firmly. 

A slow smile spread across Agnes’ face. “Oh, hun, I can show you exactly how much I do.”

There was a red poof of magic, and Agnes’ jeans and turtleneck were replaced with dark purple lingerie. Waving a shaking hand, Wanda conjured back her original clothes. 

“You’re no fun,” Agnes pouted, tugging at the turtleneck’s collar. 

“I know this doesn’t make sense,” Wanda said. “But you’re not  _ you,  _ right now.”

“So you turn back the clock after we’re done, bing, bang, boom, no problem,” Agnes said. Off Wanda’s stunned silence, she added, “Don’t act so surprised. You’re not exactly keeping it a secret, anymore.”

“Keeping what a secret?” Wanda said innocently, conjuring a thread of magic behind her back. 

“You, Vision, the little ones. You’re like  _ The Incredibles.  _ Has that come out yet?” Agnes checked her watch, as if it would tell her the date. “Point is, I know you’re powerful. But your ooky-spooky, hocus-pocus stuff isn’t the reason why I want to spread you out on the counter.” 

“We can disagree about that,” Wanda said, red tendrils of energy crackling as she prepared to put Agnes back under. 

“Wait,” Agnes said, throwing out her arms. “Please. I’ve been watching you. You try so hard. Perfect wife, perfect mother, perfect everything.” She took a step closer, her gaze burning and inescapable. “The stress is getting to you. How could it not? You have to keep such tight control.” Another step. “You can lose control with me. Blow off some steam - just like Vision is doing. Then you can scamper right back to him.” 

Wanda was tired. No matter how shiny she made this reality, she still woke up every day with the same bone-deep fatigue she had felt during that last fight against Thanos. All she wanted was a real release from being herself, which is why she kept playing TV dress-up; to her dismay, she had never felt more trapped inside her own skin. So when Agnes swirled her arms around Wanda’s waist, Wanda let herself lean forward to catch the other woman’s lips with hers. 

God, the sound Agnes made against her mouth, halfway between a moan and a purr. “Lose control,” Agnes repeated softly, pressing herself closer. “Anything you want, Wanda. Anything.” 

Wanda drove Agnes backwards until she was stumbling over the dining room table. Nipping at her earlobe, her throat, her collarbone, Wanda pushed her flat on her back, grinding a thigh between Agnes’ legs. Agnes’ hips rose to meet her. The sound of their breathing filled the room. There was no storybook script to work from, no Emmy-winning fairytale to show Wanda how her life should be. For a moment - for this one insane moment - she was free to be someone completely new. 

“Didn’t know you were such a romantic, dear,” Agnes said breathlessly as Wanda kissed back up her neck. “I’m a little kinkier, myself. Not ashamed to say I’ve been tied up once or twice in my life.” 

“You’re impatient,” Wanda murmured against her skin. “I thought this was about what  _ I  _ wanted.” 

“Well, of course. Everything is.” 

Wanda’s head was too hazy to process that comment. With a flick of her wrist, she returned Agnes to her 50s look: fitted dress, perfectly coiffed hair. “Let me enjoy this,” she said, bunching the skirt of the dress to Agnes’ waist. 

She ran her hands up Agnes’ thighs, relishing the shiver she got in return. It had been so long since she had been with someone warm and soft. Kneeling over Agnes on the table, she let her fingers graze Agnes’ clit, barely applying any pressure at all. 

“You’re evil,” Agnes said, reaching down to push Wanda’s hand against her. 

Another flick of her wrist, and Wanda pinned Agnes’ arms above her head, thin circles of red magic holding them in place. She continued to rub slow, soft circles with her fingers, her other hand reaching up under the dress to play with a nipple. 

Agnes’ expressions were exquisite. Pleasure and frustration, each emotion taking turns winning out. She bucked her hips again and again, searching for more stimulation. With a last burst of magic, Wanda secured her hips down, making it so that Agnes couldn’t squeeze her legs together. 

“Is that too much?” Wanda asked, guilt once again stabbing her stomach. 

“No,” Agnes said, looking up at her with fire in her eyes. “But damn, it’s  _ creative. _ ”

Wanda slipped two fingers inside of her, then three, her movements slow and deep. Agnes made a little noise with each thrust, her eyes drifting closed. Wanda lowered her mouth to her clit, which earned a host of louder noises. The thrust of her fingers became harder, but never faster, a maddeningly slow pace forcing Agnes to the edge. 

“Are you close?” Wanda asked, hooking her fingers upward.

“Yes,” Agnes gasped. “I’m - gods, I’m so close - ”

Wanda withdrew her fingers. Sitting on the table by Agnes’ side, she ran her tongue along her pointer finger, making sure that Agnes was watching. “Beg,” she said, realizing that a bit of her real accent had crept back into her voice. 

Agnes whimpered, straining against the magic bonds. “Please - Wanda, you feel so good, please make me come.” 

“And what do I get out of it?” Wanda said, giving Agnes a slow kiss. With a wave of her hands, she magicked away both of their clothes, leaving them neatly folded next to the laundry pile. “Why shouldn’t I leave you here, helpless and desperate, and come back later when I feel like it?” 

“I can be good,” Agnes said, a hint of her mischievous smile returning even as her face flushed. “I’ll put my tongue between your legs until my jaw aches, I won’t stop until you say so, I’m yours, everything is yours.” 

Wanda groaned, a pang of arousal sending sparks throughout her body. She freed Agnes from the bonds as she pushed three fingers into her again, this time working fast. Agnes dug her nails into Wanda’s back, screaming something in a language Wanda didn’t understand as she came. 

Agnes wasted no time in getting Wanda into the same position, flat on her back. Kneeling between Wanda’s legs, she whispered, “Show me what you can do.”

Wanda had no time to wonder what that meant. Agnes had her tongue on her, her lips, sucking and licking in alternating bursts that made Wanda’s head spin. It wasn’t just her head, in fact - out of the corner of her eye, Wanda could see one of the living room chairs zap into a groovy 1970s pattern.

“Wait,” Wanda started to say, but Agnes’ fingers were inside her, making stars burst behind her eyes. All around them, the furniture fuzzed and changed, becoming grayscale, then retro, then modern. 

“Yes,” Agnes said, pushing her sweat-slicked hair out of her face. While her hand kept moving expertly, Agnes was staring intently at the furniture. “That’s it, Wanda. Let’s see how this place was made.” 

The roof flickered, briefly becoming nothing but strings of red energy. Wanda herself was glowing faintly red. She tried to reign the power in, but she couldn’t concentrate, not with Agnes making every nerve in her body hum. 

When she came, her muscles spasming around Agnes’ hand, the entire house was a mess of red. Everything lost its shape - everything except the two of them. Then, the magic seemed to be drawn to Agnes, the tendrils of magic sucked into her. Terrified that she was hurting her, Wanda raised her hands.

“No,” Agnes yelled, but the sound was cut short as they were transported back to the couch, fully clothed. Agnes was halfway through folding Vision’s shirt. 

For a moment, Wanda was worried that Agnes remembered. Her neighbor’s face looked furious. But she quickly reverted to her normal, cheerful self, neatly tucking the sleeves of Vision’s shirt inwards. 

“He’s been gone for quite a while, hasn’t he, dear?” Agnes said, separating the towering stack of laundry into two more manageable piles. 

“I guess he has,” Wanda said, letting out a relieved sigh.

  
  



End file.
